Yom Kippur, introspection and batting averages | Opinion

This column will be published in print on Yom Kippur day. Usually I write about current Jewish affairs or political issues from a Jewish viewpoint. But on Yom Kippur I cannot avoid my rabbinical instincts to preach. Hopefully, I won’t put you to sleep.

Yom Kippur asks us to look deep within ourselves, and for many of us it does not matter whether a personal God is there to forgive us for our failures, or whether we purify our lives by our own serious self-examination. Looking into our ethical or emotional mirror can be a traumatic experience, especially if we are feeling adrift or isolated, as we face the complications of 21st century existence. So here is the caveat:

As we pound our chests asking for forgiveness for our sins (Ahl hayt sheh-hahtanu l’fah-neh-khah), let us not judge ourselves too harshly. The Talmud said of Rabbi Zuzya, that when he approached heaven God would not ask him in judgment, “Zuzya, why weren’t you Moses?” but He would ask him, “Zuzya, why weren’t you Zuzya?” We’re human; perfection is not in our DNA.

We all fail. Let us accept it as part of life, rather than beating ourselves into depression. Some of us have failed in business, some in marriage, some in parenting. We have failed in something. Before we flagellate ourselves for failure, remember that there is a very small margin of error between success and failure, and sometimes mazel (luck) determines the difference between one and the other.

Baseball is my favorite sport (although our Marlins are pathetic this season); and I believe that baseball is a perfect metaphor for life.

My favorite baseball movie is Bull Durham. Kevin Costner plays play an older but wiser minor league player destined never to make The Show – the major leagues. He is the mentor to a young, unsophisticated pitcher played by Tim Robbins. For me, the key scene is when the young star-to-be tells his friend, the one destined never to make the major leagues, that he’s been called up to the majors. The scene plays this way:

“Guess what, man? I’m going to The Show.” The older player retorts with regret and envy, “Congratulations. I hope you end up on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Maybe a cereal box.” The youngster responds to his mentor, “What’s your problem, man? I’m trying to thank you.”

The older player responds: “Do you know what the difference in hitting 250 and 300 is? It’s 25 hits. Twenty-five hits in 500 at-bats is 50 points. OK? There’s six months in a season – that’s about 25 weeks. That means if you get just one extra flair in a week. Just one. A gork. You get a ground ball. You get a ground ball with eyes. You get a dying quail. Just one more dying quail a week and you’re in Yankee Stadium.”

Baseball is a game of failure, and it prepares us for life. In baseball, if you fail to hit seven out of 10 times, you’re a hero (300 batting average). If you fail 7 ½ times out of 10 you’re average (250 batting average). And if you fail eight times out of 10, you’re no longer in baseball. The difference between success and failure is razor thin in baseball – and in life. If we made it, if we got that extra hit in life, then we succeeded.

Many of us who consider ourselves failures in different aspects of our lives, with just a little different bounce of the ball, could have been heroes. That’s life, and the ball will continue to bounce one way or the other. Sometimes we will connect. Other times we won’t. But knowing that the margins are close in life, that the difference between success and failure is often infinitesimal, we must not be too harsh upon ourselves.

Religion, and especially Yom Kippur, is a wonderful tool in helping us to confront our sins, and in the process to become better human beings – more ethical, more caring and more forgiving of others, simply: more Jewish. And introspection and prayer play a significant part in that process. But let us protect ourselves from the swing of the pendulum into unhealthy self-guilt.

Enjoy baseball, and remember, God does not expect us to be perfect.

Warshal resides in Hillsboro Beach. He can be reached at brucewarshal@gmail.com.